The Truth of Eros
by XxBrokenxBeyondxRepairxX
Summary: Eros is sexual love. Eros is passion at it's deepest, most primal core. And, sometimes, Eros can be dangerous. ((Rated M to be safe, this may have sexual/adult themes later, but it will definitely have plenty of violence. Warnings will be given in the chapters.))
1. Prologue

The lights, the sounds, the cold, all of it dimmed out when his foot hit the ice. Strange for him, but a welcome unfamiliarity. It helped him block everything out and focus on the performance.

' _Just breathe. In, and out. This isn't about you anymore, you're performing for the audience. You can't let your fans down. You can't let_ him _down._ ' He told himself. It helped take the edge off his anxiety. A little bit anyway, but any relief was greatly appreciated. He dove into his routine, pouring his heart and soul out on the ice, laid bare for all the world to see. But about halfway through, something changed. Awareness came back, drowning him in a sea of flashing lights, cheering fans, and nameless faces just _waiting_ for him to fail. And with it, a wave of realization crashed over him. He had forgot something, something important.

' _Not important now. Just keep going._ ' He told himself, steeling his nerves against the rising anxiety wrapping his heart in a cold iron grip. Not important now, not important here. Just keep breathing. Keep going. And he did, until he got to the climax of his performance. He could tell the moment his feet left the ice that something was wrong. He didn't have enough momentum in his spin. The audience realized quickly that something was wrong, because he heard startled gasps and murmurs of concern in his hyperaware state. Then the ice was coming straight to his face, alarmingly quickly. He closed his eyes and attempted to twist his body to right himself but his history of ballet failed him in this moment. It couldn't save him from the fall. He didn't feel it at first when his head bounced off the ice, but he did hear a distant scream. Then several more as the audience started to see the growing pool of red under his head. The lights became too bright all of a sudden, the sounds overwhelming, and he closed his eyes in response to the overstimulation. That's when the pain set in, a horrible throbbing that he couldn't identify the source of. He heard someone run to his side, felt himself be lifted by familiar, strong arms into a warm chest. He opened his eyes briefly to catch a glimpse of ashen grey hair, the words the man was shouting at him lost in a sea of other sounds. But above all the tin, he heard the announcer.

"Katsuki Yuuri has fallen during his performance!"


	2. Chapter One

**_AN- Hey everyone, I'm so glad to see people enjoying this story so far! As warned in the summary, there will be violence in this story. It's going to end up being a yandere!Yuuri fic after all. But I would like to know what you guys want to see in this, so I will be taking suggestions/comments into account in the future chapters. Not trying to kill y'all with a long author's note, so on with the official chapter one!_**

Yuuri's performance was beyond a doubt beautiful. Viktor, as well as the rest of the audience, couldn't take their eyes off him. Viktor had never been so proud. Yuuri, shy, timid little Yuuri, was out there doing what he had doubted he could do from the beginning. He was telling a story on the ice, a story of passion and overwhelming sensual desire. He _was_ Eros. Viktor watched every jump, every spin with rapt attention. This is why he knew immediately that something was wrong. He saw the expression on Yuuri's face change and just _knew_. But he willed himself to relax.

' _Yuuri knows what he's doing. Out there he's someone completely different. He'll push it back until after he's done and then he'll unravel._ ' But he couldn't believe his own thoughts. He knew very well how much Yuuri's thoughts could distract him during his performances, he knew he would more than likely flub at least one of his remaining jumps. But that would be okay, he was already thinking up countermeasures to ensure Yuuri placed high enough to move on. He was so focused on these thoughts that at first he didn't notice Yuuri's mistake. The murmurs around him brought him back to the rink and his aquaramine eyes widened in disbelief and horror when he saw Yuuri lift into the jump. He knew immediately how bad that was going to be, having had enough spills on the ice to predict the fall. But it was made worse when Yuuri twisted his body to try to break the fall. He darted to the opening in the rink, eyes fixed on Yuuri. His stomach flipped unpleasantly when he saw Yuuri hit the ice, but it wasn't until he saw just how still his protege was laying that he realized just how bad it was. He bolted onto the ice, balance nearly failing him when he started to see the red halo surrounding his dear Yuuri's head. He ran to him, relieved to see those rich honey eyes flutter open. At least he's conscious. But nearly instantly they slid back closed. Viktor dropped to his knees and picked Yuuri up, ignoring the rapidly cooling blood soaking his pants nearly immediately.

"Yuuri, you have to stay awake. At least until the paramedics arrive." He was having to shout to be heard over the din of the now panicking audience. He couldn't pay them any mind, not while his heart lay bloody and unmoving in his arms. His literal heart felt like it had sunk to the deepest pits of his stomach and twisted with every ragged breath he felt Yuuri take. When the paramedics _finally_ did arrive, those breaths had taken an alarming turn. Viktor made a mental note to speak to someone about the response time of their emergency workers, in the time it took for someone to take Yuuri from him he could have suffered grievous damage, or worse. Viktor stood on shaky legs and started to follow them until he was stopped at the ambulance.

"I'm his fiance! You have to let me ride with him!" He cried out, outraged. But he knew from the looks on the paramedics faces they wouldn't let him.

"No one can ride with him, we need all the room we can get to work on him." One of them said as they loaded Yuuri in. Viktor knew better than to argue despite how angry it made him. That did make sense. So he could do nothing but watch as the doors of the ambulance swung shut and it tore down the road in the direction of the nearest hospital. He jumped when a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

"What the hell happened?" Christophe, his closest friend in the figure skating circuit, asked him worriedly.

"He fell on the ice and hit his head. Beyond that, I don't know yet." Viktor answered numbly, the shock from the accident refusing to abate and withdraw it's fog from his mind. He suddenly felt much older than his 27 years, his entire being ached with worry. But at the same time, a childish feeling of being lost tore at him. He didn't know what to do. Luckily for him, Chris had an idea.

"Come on, let's go to the hospital." He said, pulling Viktor to his car. Viktor had never been so grateful toward him.

Viktor paced the floor of the waiting room, circling back for what felt like the millionth time. Chris watched him, frowning. He knew nothing he could say would convince his friend to sit down. Yuuri had been in surgery for five hours now, the doctors working to stop the swelling in his brain that had been a result of the fall. Whenever the doors to the wing would open, Viktor would immediately run over and ask whoever had appeared for updates on Yuuri's condition, but so far no one had been able to tell him much. He was so lost in his thoughts and worries that he didn't hear the doors open again.

"Mr. Nikiforov?" The tentative voice of the nurse snapped him back and he hurried over to her.

"Yes? How is he? Is he out of surgery yet?" All rushed out in nearly one breath.

"He is out of surgery and he's been moved into a room to recover, but the surgeon wants to speak with you privately." Her words were like arctic water being poured down his back, goosebumps appearing on his exposed forearms and forming worry lines on his forehead. Worry about what the surgeon could want to speak with him about and relief that Yuuri was no longer in surgery waged war in his mind, so much so he was barely able to nod and follow the nurse. The surgeon met him outside Yuuri's room.

"I have another surgery scheduled soon so I'm just going to cut to the chase. I've seen injuries like Mr. Katsuki's many times in my career and most of the time the patient recovers without many issues, but sometimes they suffer some changes to their personality as a result of swelling in the frontal lobe of their brain. Usually nothing big mind you, but I wanted to let you know about this before Mr. Katsuki wakes up." He said without preamble. Viktor was grateful for that, his frazzled nerves couldn't handle any rabbit chasing around the subject. He nodded slowly.

"Thank you. I might have questions later, but I just want to see Yuuri right now." He said, his voice betraying his worry for the younger man.

"He can have visitors, but try to keep quiet. He needs rest." With that, the surgeon walked away. Viktor hurried into the room as quietly as he could, nearly flinching when he saw Yuuri in that hospital bed. He looked so small, so fragile. _His_ Yuuri, so pale and still. It broke his heart. He walked over and sat down in a chair set beside the bed for visitors and took Yuuri's free hand, the other being attached to the bed so he wouldn't pull the IV loose from it.

"You're freezing..." He murmured softly, gently rubbing warmth back into the unconscious man's hand. He stopped when Yuuri's hand twitched a bit and looked up to see the younger man's face scrunch up in that adorable way he loves when Yuuri starts to wake up. Amber eyes fluttered open groggily, scanning the room until they landed on Viktor. His face relaxed and he weakly squeezed Viktor's hand.

"Viktor..." He breathed, the anesthesia from his surgery still taking a toll on him. Viktor smiled gently and lifted his hand to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles, his smile widening when his lips brush the cold metal of Yuuri's ring. The symbol of their love for one another, it's twin mirrored on his own finger.

"I'm right here, Yuuri. I told you, I'll always be by your side." Viktor whispered to the groggy man. He didn't have to know that he couldn't be with him earlier.

"Can't see clearly..." Yuuri groaned lethargically. Viktor smiled a bit. His fiance was certainly the most adorable human being on the planet, even after a traumatic head injury and hours of surgery. Viktor took Yuuri's glasses out of his pocket and carefully slipped them on his lover's face.

"Phichit brought them for you. They had to take your contacts out during your surgery, they gathered blood." He explained. Yuuri nodded a bit in understanding, blinking to clear his blurry vision.

"What happened?" Yuuri asked hoarsely, closing his weary eyes. He remembered skating then the realization of forgetting something, then nothing. Wait!

"I forgot!" Yuuri cried loudly, jolting up. Viktor hurried to press a gentle hand to his chest and guide him back to a laying position.

"Shh, Yuuri, you need to rest. It can wait, surely." He soothed quietly. Yuuri relaxed back against his pillows, the quick movement exhausting his already depleted energy. What had he forgotten again?

"You took a nasty fall during your program, you hit your head pretty hard and had a little bit of blood on the brain. You just got out of surgery not too long ago." Viktor explained. Yuuri nodded again. That explained the dull ache in his head and the annoying bandages wrapped around it.

"They didn't have to shave my head, did they?" He asked forlornly, making Viktor chuckle.

"Only what was necessary. What kind of coach would I be if I let them shave my champion's head only a few months before the Grand Prix Finals?" He answered lightly. Yuuri frowned.

"The GPF... I'm not going to be able to compete in it, am I...?" He asked quietly, a weight settling uncomfortably in his chest. His clumsiness caused this. He would embarrass Hasetsu and his family, again... And worst of all, he would disappoint Viktor... He would go back to Russia, return to the world Yuuri had selfishly dragged him away from...

"Probably not this season, you need to recover. We still don't know how long that will take. But next season, the gold will definitely be yours." Viktor informed him gently, gently rubbing his thumb across the top of Yuuri's pale hand. It was nearly as pale as his own now. Yuuri sighed sadly, tears of frustration and grief building in his eyes. He always botched the biggest competitions. Why did he expect any different this season? Because Viktor had decided to coach him? Viktor may be a Five Time World Champion and an absolute genius on the ice, but he was no miracle worker. Even all his help and encouragement couldn't win Yuuri the gold...

"What's with the face? You shouldn't look so sad, my Yuuri." Viktor said quietly, carefully wiping away the tears that had begun to trail down Yuuri's face. Yuuri sniffled and, against his better judgement, leaned into Viktor's gentle touch. He needed to enjoy these wonderful gestures while he could. Before Viktor left him.

"I've let you down... That program you made for me, all those hours you put into me, I wasted it..." Yuuri whispered, biting his already bruised lip so Viktor wouldn't have to see it tremble. Viktor frowned and gently tightened his grip on Yuuri's hand.

"You have never let me down, Yuuri. You've made me so proud, you've come so far. Watching you work so hard these months reminds me of myself. I think that's why you've become my inspiration. You remind me of the time before figure skating became a shackle around my neck." He told the younger man, surprising even himself with the vehemence in his voice and the truth in his words. Yuuri blinked at him owlishly and Viktor couldn't help himself. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He felt more than heard Yuuri's small intake of breath before he felt him kiss back, a slow pressure against his own lips. Unfortunately, the tender moment was broken by the clearing of a throat. Viktor pulled away and turned to see Chris standing in the doorway, a small stuffed toy poodle in his hand. When he turned back to Yuuri, he was surprised to see an unfamiliar look in his eyes, a look so utterly _not_ his Yuuri that it gave him pause. It went beyond irritation, it was _aggressive_. But as quickly as the look appeared, it was gone with a blink. Making Viktor wonder if he'd even seen it at all.


End file.
